1. |
Flying Over Utah
02:59
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No, there is nothing you need to say.
I know the reason you’re gonna go; it’s ok.
I was up in my mind, and you only were kind.
Saw a shadow behind, though, and I gazed at the glow of a long-dead star.
I never picked up the language right;
spoke ‘til I dreamed in the broken words each night.
There’s a smile in my sighs, but it won’t reach the eyes:
just a lazy disguise, not half as true as the glow of a long-dead star.
Now, I sit up by the empty wall;
wish for the one I would never choose at all.
From the plane up at noon, now the earth’s like the moon,
But it’ll be better soon; why should we ache for the glow of a long-dead star?
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2. |
Didn't Know Why
04:26
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And I didn’t know why you thought that I knew the truth
about the way that I felt and where you would fit in my view.
And I’ve found, looking backward now, that you were right to ask,
but I didn’t know why.
And he didn’t know why you stopped sending cards to him,
when in the holiday months, when you were young, he’d give you gifts.
And though all those silent years might be what he deserved,
still, he didn’t know why.
Chorus:
You could smile and accept the bruise,
‘cause now you can’t change it.
But just because there’s an open route
doesn’t mean you can take it,
even though it’s up to you to choose.
Chorus
You obsessed over what you’d say
if you were given a chance to tell everyone off face to face.
And you knew the day would never come, but still, the thirst was there,
and you didn’t know why.
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3. |
Getting Here
03:58
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Sand that I watched you step on,
ages and miles away––
sometimes I see it;
I feel the lightning flash,
strong, but it rarely stays.
It’s been a while.
Chorus:
Took some time getting here;
now all the cracks have been painted in gold.
Weight pulling down
doesn’t get lighter, just easier to hold.
Ghosts used to terrorize me,
made every floorboard creek.
Though they still haunt me,
they only float and stare;
there, but they seldom speak.
It’s been a while.
Chorus
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4. |
Now It's Gone
02:57
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I know
it’s hard to tell when you should close the door,
and even if you’re right you can’t be sure,
‘cause now it’s gone.
I know
you saw the person that I hold beneath,
the way I hesitate before I speak,
‘cause now it’s gone.
Tonight, I remember lying on the floor,
with all of the notes you left me in the drawer, neat and pure.
I know
you fit somewhere between the time and space,
a modern image of an ancient place,
‘cause now it’s gone.
Tonight, I remember that first time we met,
the way that you looked at me before I left.
I know
you wanted something that you could believe,
but I was lost in what awaited me,
‘cause now it’s gone.
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5. |
Blackberry Winter
04:10
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It gets warmer, but so late each year.
A long winter, but I stayed right here again.
If the time came to move on, would I know then?
In deep water, when I’m feeling lost,
I see shimmer as I look across the bay,
but when I swim to where I saw sun, it just moves away.
There’s no use holding on to things that aren’t real.
The same place isn’t always gonna feel like home.
But when I drive around and pass the houses I recall, I look in.
An old picture can say more with time––
it’s just footprints ’til you spot the crime, the key.
When the years color my view, and I find pictures of you, what will I see?
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6. |
One More Year
03:34
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Out late on weeknights. Friends might come see.
But while all of them are off getting married and taking salaries,
I’m in this Tuesday bar to play.
When you talk to me, I might explain
that I’m not like the others, with their pipe dream-clouded brains.
But when you walk away, I’m back in line,
stuck waiting to give it one more try.
Like flames shot at halftime, or seats in first class,
I can’t help but feel I’m not necessary, ‘cause I’m not changing much
for people in distress anywhere.
And I’d give it up and accept my fate,
but I’m like a retriever that gets out past the gate.
And even though the goal’s not clear,
I’ll have to be closer if I give it one more year.
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7. |
Go Wrong
03:37
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Headlights go passing me silently.
Between the glow, I look back at me.
Thought I’d get through, but I’m stuck on the side;
motion denied, all day.
Now, it wouldn’t feel like so long a time
if I could just be a friend of mine.
I’m reaching up as I fall away.
Chorus:
And it hurts when it gets to me;
yeah, it hurts when it gets to me.
Oh, it hurts when it gets to me:
I can’t move along.
And I keep on thinking ‘bout where I go wrong.
It didn’t look like too hard a shot
to move a little and hold a lot.
Thought I’d do more than just circle the block,
promise in chalk to change.
Now, I took a picture so late at night;
now all the city’s just shades of light
like broken pieces I can’t arrange.
Chorus
There’s no one holding me underground.
It’s not so far I can’t turn around.
I hope my feeling is right this time.
Chorus
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8. |
Empty Place
05:45
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In the front of backward dreams,
I can see myself at ease, with a plan.
And the validation I won’t ever get
seems all too real.
And then a love I don’t yet know
smiles and holds my face,
but every time the vision goes,
I find another empty place.
Like a writer out of steam,
when he goes to ask the stream for a line,
I’m forever caught in hopeful hopelessness
that leaves me dry.
So then I overthink my pose
for my cover page,
but every time the camera goes,
I find another empty place.
And as I stand before the mirror
and pretend to speak,
the fingerprints and stains grow clearer
while the faucet runs beneath.
I want to know what I can’t see.
I want to know what I can believe.
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9. |
For Your Sake
03:22
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I see you walk across the floor like this whole place belongs to you.
You talk too loud to be ignored, and the things you say sound like they’re true
If someone’s named, you know them well; you make it clear you’re in demand.
The straining shows, and I can tell, but what’s underneath? I don’t understand.
It’s hard to say, beyond a guess, just who it is you’re hoping to impress.
Do you think you’re fooling me, wearing out your smile until it breaks?
Do you think you’re fooling me, or is it for your sake?
I’d like to say you’re something rare, but then I watch my own routine.
I catch myself rehearsing stares and the same few lines I wish could mean.
So it gets tough to criticize the way you live inside a game.
I’m in there too, I recognize, and for all I know, we look the same.
I can’t deflect or turn away. I hear my words come rolling back my way:
Do you think you’re fooling me, trying to hide so no one sees you shake?
Do you think you’re fooling me, or is it for your sake?
Do you think you’re fooling me? Is it worth the trouble that it takes?
Do you think you’re fooling me, or is it for your sake?
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10. |
Commute
03:44
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Someone I knew used to live close but then she left for fresher air.
Walking alone, sometimes I think I see her face here and there.
I look closer, but the stride is wrong: just a stranger passing by.
The subway from home comes out just once to cross the bridge above the blue.
Part of me hopes maybe today we’ll stay outside the whole way through.
But we go back into tunneled stone. Windows turn black, underground.
A pen full of ink, a notebook that’s still in plastic wrap, tucked away.
To work through the aches, I said that I’d write my feelings down. Not today.
Follow one blade on the ceiling fan till I lose it. Start again.
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11. |
Altitude
04:42
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Driving homeward, moving slower each mile.
The kind of rush you hope will take a while,
stuck in the evening.
Quiet greetings, tv streaming, no sound.
That’s when they told me what the scans had found
and changed all the hallways.
It’s when your eyes close, the moment you brace,
right before you’re hit by what you saw coming.
Now, when I see you, I can feel how you’ve changed.
You sealed some letters for a future day
in case you’re not speaking.
It’s not clear when what we fear might come true,
like a pilot losing altitude,
desperately gliding.
So now, we’ll brace as ground comes near,
and hope we’ll be prepared for what we saw coming.
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12. |
I'll Be Waiting
04:53
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Your room must know me well by now––
the walls have heard me confide––
‘cause I come to you in moments when I need a place to hide.
I know some days, you’re low like me,
with aches that won’t let you rest,
and maybe I can’t relieve them, but I want to do my best.
Chorus:
On nights too cloudy to see,
I’ll be waiting, I’ll be waiting,
You’re there, that’s plenty for me;
I’ll be waiting, I’ll be waiting.
I wish love could heal everything––
a touch, a word, and it’s done––
like songs while a ship is sinking, or a flower in a gun.
But I never believed in that.
I know there’s too much that’s wrong.
And all I can do is keep you close to me and carry on.
Chorus
Well it’s easier talking than it is to do right,
but I’m spinning beside you like a twin satellite.
Chorus
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Hush Club Boston, Massachusetts
Three friends in a Boston indie band
hushclubband@gmail.com
Social media: @hushclubband
Banner photo by Hayley Bigness, profile photo by Mickey West
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